On the way from Kutaisi to Tbilisi we are surprised by construction of impressive highway. Georgians are very serious with building works. We notice that they are using German autobahn building technologies - concrete is used in the process.



We also meet Austrian Werner with the new adventurer. He is traveling in transit through Turkey and Armenia, complaining about the last because police is demanding money.



Road signs limit the speed to 110 km/h, but seldom does anyone obey these rules. In Stepatsmind, which is located at the bottom of the Kazbegi mountain and Gergeti monastery, we arrive at the noon. Steep uphill road that leads us in the direction of monastery is hard and complicated. Also we need to respect the condition of Normund's ankle. When we arrive at our destination we hastily capture the beautiful view of the Kazbegi mountain and Gergeti monastery. We have a rare chance to enjoy clear and sunny weather.



The monastery was built in the 14th century. It’s location on the top of the cliff and the spectacular landscapes around have made it the symbol of Georgia. Local writer of 18th century Batonishvili wrote that during the wars and dark times the artifacts (including the Nino cross) were taken up here for safekeeping.



After successful return to the city we easily find a guesthouse and head for local tavern, which, as we get to know later, is owned by the Tamaz Odishvili, the famous Olympic disc thrower from the seventies. Former athlete, triple champion of the USSR, tells us about the time he spent training in Latvia's Dinamo camp at the coast of Ķīšezers and also about Jānis Lūsis, with whom he participated in World championships and Olympic games.

While we were filming by the Gergeti monastery, an accident happened- the strong wind capsized our camera tripod and the mike broke off. We had to glue it back on with chemical metal so we got delayed in Stepatsmind for another day so the camera would not be subjected to vibrations while the glue sets. While we were waiting, we did our laundry.



We had lunch at Tamaza's eatery. Tamaza is a former sportsman and he makes tasty Cuadi (we call it shashlik) and treats us to some dry red wine. I asked him about the relationship with North Ossetians and South Ossetians. Tamaz believes that a time will come when Georgians will sort out their relationships with the neighbouring countries and there will be peace. If Russia wouldn't interfere, this could happen sooner.

I starts raining early in the day. Taking in the black clouds all around us, we put on our rain equipment. It's chilly. We had planned to go to Juta and Truso valleys, but because of the weather we only go to Juta. There, a rather easily passable 10 km of offroad leads uphill. From here, we could continue to Shatili village on the border with Chechnya. We plan to go to the village tomorrow, using a dirt road from Jinvali.

Great views are disturbed by the weather. The rain gets worse and we pass Kobi village deciding not to see the Truso valley. Maybe next time... After we pass the snow covered mountain pass to Gudauri, the clouds disperse, allowing the sun to warm our bodies and souls.



In Georgia, the sides of the road are very lively, here, honey and chuchela are sold. Chuchela is walnuts or filberts in grape juice sauce. This is a sort of a national candy. The grape juice is boiled while half of the liquid has evaporated, the fructose content has gone up and the liquid has thickened.
Nowadays, the goody is loved by children, but some time ago it was used by travellers as a source of energy.



In the afternoon, we enter the homeland of Khinkali- Pasanauri. Khinkali are handmade dumplings filled with meat and herbs. The top of the Khinkali must not be eaten, it should be used to guide the Khinkali in the mouth. The treat is filled with juice, so it must be eaten with hands and firstly, you have to bite it and suck the juice out. We stop at a roadside motel in Jinvalai. Not long after that, we are joined by three Russian lads from Vjatka. Dima, Stas and Sergey have crossed the Verhnij Lars border today and will be travelling around Georgia for a month. We talk into the night.

Sun. This is the first summery morning. We say our goodbyes to the Russian guys from Vyatka, fill our tanks and start driving in direction of Shatili. This route was recommended to us by Kārlis, a member of Jawa club in Latvia, he took this route last summer with his friends. When we enter Shatili, a thought crosses my mind- all hail to the folks who were able to conquer this road with Jawas.



Kārlis was right about refuelling. There are no gas stations on the road for 100 km, so we had to fill up our tanks and take some extra with us, because for 70% of the road, you only get to use the first 3 gears. The road has been opened recently, and, as it is with Georgian mountains, the spring is not here yet. There’s almost no traffic and that gives us a chance to enjoy the ride. On the mountain pass, we once again meet Hannes from Austria with his old Yamaha Super Tenere, he’s returning from Shatili.



He isn’t pleased about his decision to go to Shatili because ‘the road is horrible and there’s nothing to see in the destination, and overall, everything is ‘Shaize’’. He says it’s an abandoned village with no people and one guesthouse. He also decided not to go to Omalo and will start driving in the direction of Armenia today.



When we get to the sunlit village, I am full of appreciation with the nice road that took us here. The village is a unique building complex carved into a cliff. Right on the other side of the fortress and the river we find simple wooden houses and the owner Niko, who offers us to spend the night. The view from the veranda is exquisite. As the only tourists in the village, we can enjoy the sounds of the river, the birds and the amazing views. Only two kiloteres from here is the border with Chechnya. There are a few Kevshureti families left in the village, and they all have the same surname- Chincharauli.



There are 14 students in the school and Mary, the teacher, invites us to come to the school tomorrow and tell the children about Latvia. My sidekicks are thoughtful after the long journey- Normunds’s dislocated ankle still hurts and his BMW’s rear brakes are lost. Osis is enjoying the views but he would prefer to enjoy them on an asphalt road. They both don’t know yet about Omalo. At seven p.m., a bad storm begins. All of us are happy we chose not to stay in tents.

Shatili.

The village of Shatili squats on the northern slope of the Greater Caucasus mountains in Georgia. Even today the area is considered isolated and remote but in centuries past the villagers could not rely on distant authorities to afford them protection. In early medieval times the villagers hit on a solution which was to shield them from their enemies for hundreds of years. They made their village in to a fortress. The village effectively became a fortress, standing guard over the north-eastern border of Georgia. There was good need.



Even as recently as the eighteenth century the village was attacked by a force of thousands of Chechens and Dagestan warriors. Its inhabitants, the Khevsureti, endured and become legendary as highland soldiers who epitomised the traditional Georgian qualities of bravery, sincerity and righteousness, community, objectivity and love of autonomy and independence.



Governance of Shatili was communal. There was a single building called the Sapekhyno which was empty but for stone chairs. Here village elders would discuss the issues at hand but all were expected to join in and have their say – even the children. However, one thing was kept from the children – as it was from any new daughter-in-laws that had only recently joined the community. The livestock which would be used in any siege was evident to the eye – one only had to set foot in to one of the houses to hear them. But what of water? A secret copper tank contained enough for the village for a week. Sadly, the village could not withstand the tidal wave of twentieth century political dogma. The very qualities which had sustained the Khevsureti for so long were looked upon with suspicion and considered potentially very dangerous by the soviet authorities. Although the country had been invaded and taken over by the Red Army in 1929, it was only during the Stalinist period that the issue of the Khevsureti would be fully addressed. I

n the early 1950s the villagers were persuaded to leave their ancestral home. They and their kin had lived there for an estimated thirteen hundred years but the tower blocks of the Georgian capital Tbilisi were to be their new home, 140 kilometres away. Yet culture and a sense of belonging to a region cannot be easily displaced or destroyed. In the 1980s when the communist stranglehold lessened about twenty families returned back home to Shatili.

Early in the morning, as we decided yesterday, we are trekking up to the local school of Shatili. The trail leads through an old fortress and most doors and windows are open so we can explore. It’s obvious that some of them are prepared for tourists, a place where they can spend a night in a spartic environment. Mary greets us by the small school which is made of wood. Today there are even less students than usual because there has been an accident- a land fatigue- in a nearby village, Khone, and there are many deaths and wounded ones.



The life in the mountains isn’t easy, Mary tells: ‘In summertime, there are about 20 families living in Shatili, but only about 8 stay through the winter, because of the weather- the village is cut off from the outside world by snow. A helicopter brings in necessities once in a month.


If there is a medical emergency, it is impossible to receive immediate help. The youths have no motivation to stay, so the number of inhabitants is shrinking. The teachers get premiums for working in this environment but usually even that doesn’t make them stay.’ Mary has come here from Tbilisi and has been working here for three years.



The lesson for 5th grade begins. There is one pupil in the classroom!!!

Goergi gets all of his teacher’s attention. We are the guest teachers and we tell the boy about Latvia and the relationship between Latvia and Georgia. Maybe one day Georgi will come to see the Baltic Sea from this distant mountain village.

While packing for the road, Osis notices a surprise - his back tire is flat. We have to start the repair process.



I decide to use the free time to visit the Khone village which is located 20 km from here. The road that leads to Mutso, halfway to my destination, is very entertaining. The consequences of the recent rain and storms are obvious. After Mutso, the road is blocked by a very recent landslide. I have to turn back. At around six o’clock we manage to find a place for the night, not far from Jinvali, by river Aragvi. By the campfire we talk about our plans regarding Omalo mountain pass. This route was recommended by Mārcis and Aivis, members from another Jawa club, they used this mountain pass last year.



A few days ago, some youths from Israel with CRF 250 LS Hondas told us that the pass is still closed, but there is hope that it will open soon.

It’s obvious that the road conditions will be worse than they were in summertime, but I’m determined to go. Everyone has to make up his own mind, going up is not mandatory, we are looking for freedom and happiness, after all.

My sidekicks decide to come with me. Wooohooo!

The lightning in the sky all around us was so intimidating, Osis decided not to put up his tent and to go to sleep under the tabele in the shed. In the morning, right after we packed the tents, it started raining and didn’t stop for another two hours.



After Jinvali we turn to a mountain road in direction of Akhmeta and 1 km after the first escalation, incidents start happening. There is road repair work in the first 10 km and the road has turned into a wet, brown ice rink. Trying to move on two wheels is further interfered by the escalations and drops.



With each kilometre the situation only gets worse - both ‘adventures’ start having problems with mudguards. Myself and Osis stop frequently to try and get the mud out, but it doesn’t really help to solve the problem- I can feel my front wheel block and my motorcycle slides another 10 metres forward. I land on my side in the soft, sticky mud. Thankfully, my speed wasn’t much more than 15 km/h. We get my ride up and assess the damage. Yes, my old ‘adventure’ obviously hasn’t been made for road conditions like these because of the construction of the front mudguard. The worst thing is that when the front mudguard’s brackets broke off, the brake tube also broke off and that blocked the wheel. We take off the remaining parts and fix the brake tube with plastic connectors and ‘slide on’.



After that, Normunds says he can’t take it anymore. I tell him that there’s no point in going back because we’re halfway there, at least that’s what the Georgian truck drivers, which rarely slide by, say. We have two options. The first one- I drive down and if I’m lucky I send them a message. The second one-we wait for a truck that can carry our equipment to come. Normunds calms down and keeps driving. After a moment, Osis feels that something will go wrong soon and takes off his front mudguard.



After 2 long hours, the muddy clay road is behind us and a rocky road appears in front of us, but the rocky road feels like the best highway. We slowly roll in village Tianeti and there’s a small, shabby repair shop on the side of the road, but for us, this is huge luck. The Georgian experts are quick to help us fix the consequences of the battle with mud. In two hours, I have new mounts and the box which was crooked after the fall, has been straightened out.



30 km of rocky mountain road leads us to Akhmet, and in Sabue village 7 km from Akhmet, in a beautiful spot, we find a guest house that belongs to a Chechen woman, Iza. The information about Omalo mountain pass is contradictory. Some drivers say it’s open, some say it’s closed.

The morning will know better.

Through the night, the rain keeps pouring over the soppy Georgian mountains. In the morning, we take in the sky not without worry, but we decide that this is the day to try and conquer the mountain pass. We are treated to an asphalt road from Akhmeta to Lechuri. We try to ask every bypasser about the conditions on the mountain pass. Usually the conversation goes like this: ‘Excuse me, is the pass open? –Of course, dear, no problems!’. Or, the other way: ‘Are you crazy, honey? You won’t pass it on a motorcycle.’



After Lechuri, there’s an army supply base by the side of the road and they are preparing firewood for the winter. It’s 11 a.m., the men all seem already plastered, but this doesn’t mean they don’t use their advanced equipment. We arrange to leave some of our belongings with them, so our rides would be lighter. We still have one last liquor bottle left and we give it to a huge, dark Georgian with a large cross pendant. The others call him Obama. ‘The nickname stuck to me because I’m so dark,’ Gogi, who was born in the mountains of Racha, laughs.



From here, we have to ride 60 km to Omalo, but the first hardships start before that. Ahead of us, a large waterfall appears. The river is ~20 m wide and quite rapid. It’s hard to judge the level of difficulty because the river isn’t actually that deep, it’s only up to your knees. I’m also not sure about where exactly to cross the river, because the spot with the least rocks is only 2m from the waterfall. I think the strength of the current isn’t powerful enough to pose serious issues even if I fall. Osis refuses to go, Normunds is doubtful. I swiftly cross the river as the first one and my companions do the same after an emotional argument. We can continue our journey.



The next obstacle which can definately cause some problems in Spring, are the cattle droves which are being taken to the green fields of Tusheti. The rocky ascent isn’t easy for the motorcycles, but when you have to get through a horde of cows, it puts extra stress on the clutch pedal. There are many landslides on the road and we can’t see the end of them, even with the bulldozers working. At one of the larger landslides we meet travellers with from the Netherlands with a SUV. They are trying to figure out how to turn their car in the other direction on the narrow road because they won’t try to cross the dangerous landslide. And they are doing the right thing. It’s easier with a motorcycle, but you still have to be careful.



Driving on a road like this alone isn’t advisable. 10 kilometres from the mountain pass, we get more information from a knowledgeable bulldozer worker. The experienced man has been working here for over a year and tells us that the snow was bulldozed on northern site a week ago, but this only works for cows and shepherds on horseback. He says it isn’t enough to cross the pass with a car or a motorcycle. We still go to see it with our own eyes. A few kilometres before the meteorological station, which is the highest point of the pass, over 3000 m, there are no other vehicles on the road with the exception of bulldozers. At one point, a dying cow is lying on the road. Swarms of flies and two huge mountain eagles are already there.



After 3 hours we cross the highest point of the mountain pass and start driving in direction of Omalo. For a moment, I let myself believe that the sun will have had melted the snow and we will be able to reach the destination. Our hope is killed at the moment when the snow stops us at the northern site. We walk the 500m long, snow covered part of the road by foot. The snow is about 40-50 cm deep. No one, except cattle, has crossed this part. If we had chains, we could try to push the motorcycles through, one by one. We come to the conclusion that there will be no crossing this for at least a week.



The emotions are high because and this beautiful mountain road and the views of untouched nature have left a great impression on us. We hurry down the road to find a place for the night.



Thank you, Mārcis, for recommending this route! We will definitely descry Omalo. But not this time!

The day before yesterday we rolled into a village called Saboe, it’s located 7 km from Akhmeta. It’s hard to find a place to spend the night around here, so the house on the banks of Ilto, where a Chechen woman called Iza is kind enough to offer a place to stay, is worth mentioning. 20 lari for a bed, 40 lari if you choose to also have a tasty dinner and breakfast and 50 lari if you also want wine with your dinner. A lot of wine. 1 eur-2,50 lari.



The view from the terrace to the river is amazing. Our motorcycles are put away safely in a lockable backyard. The hostess is kind and caring. This is a place to recommend- Iza 0995 599967179.

Iza works at the KRDF organization which was founded with the support of EU. The organization helps Chechen refugees living in the Pankisi valley integrate in the Georgian society.



The Pankisi valley has been populated for a long time by the Kistins, whose ethnical homeland is Chechnya. During the war between Russia and Chechnya (1995.-1999.), Georgia accepted 12000 refugees and most of them were taken to the Pankisi valley. Russia frequently showed their unhappiness with the situation, saying that there were many terrorists- Wahhabit radicals between the refugees. This probably wasn’t without a cause, because in 2002., the U.S. sent 200 specially trained soldiers for eliminating terrorism to Pankisi, because the it was completely controlled by mafia and terrorists and the government had no say in this region.



The leader of ISIS in Syria, Abu Omar Al-Shishani, was born in Pankisi. He was once a sergeant in the Georgian army.

The main house of the organization is a 30 minute ride away from Izas home. When we enter Duisi village, it is obvious that we have entered Muslim environment. The women are dressed differently and some are wearing a hijab.
The men are bearded so we don’t look too alien with our own beards. The coordinator of the organization, Nana Baghakashvilli, greets us kindly and tells us about the mission of KRDF in Pankisi.

At the Alaverdi monastery not far from Akhmeta, giant sized hail surprises us. Georgians are also surprised. We try to arrange permission to film in the monastery, but father Josif kindly refuses. There is a certain system around here.
We are in the Kakheti region, where the vines that grow in the valleys of Alazani and Lori produce 70% of the country’s wine and brandy.




Not far from the wine road that can be found in the map, a winery called Twins Marani is located. They also have a hotel and a museum. The attitude towards guests is very commercial –you can enjoy the mainstreamness of the tourism industry here.

We leave the comfortless place of the Marani twins in Napareuli early in the morning. Our destination for today is the monastery of Vardzia which is carved into a rock. We have to drive 250 km east from Kakheti. If we used a map, it would supposedly be smarter to go to Borjomi and then turn down, but we choose a less important road through serpentines South of Tbilisi. It’s a pity that the sky is cloudy, because the meadows all around us are blooming. Although there isn’t much traffic on the road, you can’t relax even for a moment because there are some crazy drivers.



On the roadside, we treat ourselves to some strawberries and the first sweet cherries. The temperature is getting lower which means we are going up in the mountains. There are some blooming lilacs in the backyards of the mountain villages. We can’t spend the night in tents because there are some scary clouds of rain in the sky. At six p.m., we roll into a squalid town called Tsalka. There, we find the only establishment with the proud name ‘Hotel’, where you can spend the night. The building is probably from the Stalin era and it looks like it was last cleaned when it first opened. There is trash everywhere. The village is mostly populated by Armenians and Greeks, there aren’t many Georgians here. The archaic TV has hundreds of channels but none of them broadcasts Champion league finals.



We wake up early and the sun greets us again, so we do some filming. Yesterday, while communicating with some folks, we found out about a nearby village called Berta that has a monastery worth seeing. They tell us an interesting and unbelievable story about a spring in the territory of the monastery that supposedly has trout. The trout have their own hierarchy- they are ruled by the trout king and the trout queen. There is no information about this whatsoever on the internet in English or Russian. The monastery isn’t easy to find, but we still manage to do it.



A smiling Georgian, Nico, greets us at the gate. He’s been here for a while and helps the six monks that live here in their everyday chores. The oldest monk, father Nicholas, is a childhood friend of his and, unlike Nico, chose to go God’s way early in his life. All six monks are the so called black monks, they can’t have a family and many relations with the outside world. Father Nicholas joins the conversation and shows interest in our journey. He invites us to explore the monastery which was built in the 6th century and to rest and spend the night in the monastery.



The weirdest thing is, the story about the trout is true. The trout have lived here since ancient times and receive special care. A stone basin has been made for the trout in a place where the spring runs out from under the monastery. The spring has a natural canal and the fish are free to swim elsewhere but for some mysterious reason they choose to stay.



Approximately 30 trout hide underneath the sides and show up only when Nico throws in some boiled eggs as food for them. They only eat boiled eggs. The monks all confidently confirm that the trout really have a monarchy. They choose their king and queen and these two usually spend their days further away from the other fish, closer to where the spring comes out under the building. The king and queen also have names. They are called Vasily and Vasilissa. For now, only Vasilissa holds the throne, because the king died a couple of years ago. When the queen will die, the trout will choose the next rulers. And so it has been for centuries.



True story: in Soviet times, when the monastery wasn’t actively used, an Armenian family decided to get some of the trout out to make soup. The next morning, they were found dead from poisoning. At least one more case like this is known.



Father Ilarion tells us, that in year 2008, in the Red Friday, a suicide of one trout was observed. The fish swam quickly around the basin and crashed herself in the rocks until it died. A few months later, the Russian-Georgian war begun.
The monks have tried to introduce other, foreign trout in the basin, but the special trout didn’t accept them.



The monks urge us to get consecrated in the cold water of the spring, where the temperature doesn’t change throughout seasons. We happily accept the offer and all three of us go through with it. Igumen Nicholas, the boss to the other monks, films the procedure with his phone.

After breakfast we are invited on a tour to the prayer cells which are carved in rock 10 km from the monastery. This has been a place for meditation for many generations of monks. Later in the day, we have lunch together with all of the monastery’s inhabitants and they tell us stories of their austere lives.



Father Nicholas is dying to ride a motorcycle and we are happy to provide the opportunity. Everyone is slightly worried, because the last time Father rode a moped was in his early years, but everything ends well, only a sound fall in first gear, when turning the ride around on the bumpy road.



Later, we sing together in Georgian and in Latvian until morning light.
A heartfelt thank you to the monks of Berta monastery: Igumen Nicholas, Father Ilarion, Father Matvei, Father Juan, deacon Tom, and their helpers David and Nico for the incredibly kind reception and all the wonderful stories!

Around 10 a.m., we say our goodbyes to the kind monks, which we have befriended in the last 2 days. We drive in direction of Tbilisi because we have no time left for Vardzia.

Near Tbilisi, at the Shavnabada monastery, Janis is waiting for us. He’s been living in Georgia for 5 years and helps the local agricultural cooperative with his knowledge.

Janis has many friends in Georgia and once again the road takes us to monks. Janis supplies the monastery of Shavnabada with milk, so he’s well known around here.

Father Georgi tells us a lot about the monastery and the lifestyles of monks, but asks us not to film him. This monastery is well known because it is one of the residences of Georgia’s patriarch, Ilya II. We get the chance to see the patriarchs living quarters and his workroom which he uses while living in the monastery. Later, we are taken to a wine cell, where monk-made wine and chacha are kept.

The evening continues in the cow farm where Janis works. He tells us a lot about his life during the evening and what he has learned in Georgia.

At the moment when we are packing our motorcycles in the minibus, I start to realize that our trip has come to an end. We’ll be leaving for Riga tomorrow, but for Gvido, who is taking our rides to Riga by bus, the adventures will continue. For now, it looks like there’s only one road that will be safe for transporting equipment that is registered to individuals. With the ferry from Batumi to Ilyichevsk and then through Poland and Lithuania. Transit through Russia or Belarus isn’t possible because of the customs. Gvido will try to drive through Turkey in transit, because the date of ferry departure isn’t clear. It’s not clear how hard it will be to get the cargo in Turkey and we are eager to see the results.
Getting around on a motorcycle in Tbilisi wouldn’t be very comfortable. There’s a lot of traffic during the day and the heat is also something to take into consideration. Nico helps with transportation. He has brought cheese from the monastery in order to sell it. You definitely need more than one day in Tbilisi to get a taste of it.



Our story of Georgia has ended, but it lives on in the form of new friends that we have made here, the great impressions and the untamed nature of the mountains and the kind people that live there. The road will continue throughout the summer, while we will be making the film. I hope it will turn out to be as good as I expect.



A thank you to ‘Garmin’ for navigation equipment, to ‘LMT’ for providing cell phone reception and internet, to the Consular department of the Foreign Ministry, and all the people who supported us, kept checking in on us and kept us in their thoughts.



Thank you, Georgia and a special thank you to the monks of Berta monastery for the kind reception!


On the Way of Freedom!

Next up is Tajikistan in 2016!